Chips, streamers, and a special on Duane Reade beer attempt to negate reality. It’s Friday afternoon in the throes of May, yet it’s dark and cold. Where am I?
Besides at work, besides in the midst of tapping keys and the office din, I am at the beginning of a strange summer and it all feels gently off. Was spring a season that ever existed, or was it always a figment of my imagination—like the Tooth Fairy and when subway cards were a dollar fifty? I’ve sent my winter coats home in hot anticipation and instead I shiver under an embarrassing sweater (hey—it didn’t look mauve in the store). I’m in the purgatory of weather shifts and too from sick to healthy, so the next few steps need to be taken with care…I will beware of excess and Crif hot dogs until I can be sure of them both.
I won’t be sad because my favorite TV shows have neared the end of their seasons (damn you Lost, if you don’t deliver this time, I’m going to…complain even more and still watch you in the fall) when I can be sad at the end of all seasons now that we’re already back to winter…
It’s a far cry from last weekend when the air hung heavy with flowered perfume emitted from green trees, the Roman sculptures at the Met glowed alabaster and the courses at Otto did not end after multiple white pizzas, shining pastas, spiced olives, salty artichokes and heavy glasses of wine. But still, it's the cusp of the weekend and it's May, and nothing could be better than that .
Besides at work, besides in the midst of tapping keys and the office din, I am at the beginning of a strange summer and it all feels gently off. Was spring a season that ever existed, or was it always a figment of my imagination—like the Tooth Fairy and when subway cards were a dollar fifty? I’ve sent my winter coats home in hot anticipation and instead I shiver under an embarrassing sweater (hey—it didn’t look mauve in the store). I’m in the purgatory of weather shifts and too from sick to healthy, so the next few steps need to be taken with care…I will beware of excess and Crif hot dogs until I can be sure of them both.
I won’t be sad because my favorite TV shows have neared the end of their seasons (damn you Lost, if you don’t deliver this time, I’m going to…complain even more and still watch you in the fall) when I can be sad at the end of all seasons now that we’re already back to winter…
It’s a far cry from last weekend when the air hung heavy with flowered perfume emitted from green trees, the Roman sculptures at the Met glowed alabaster and the courses at Otto did not end after multiple white pizzas, shining pastas, spiced olives, salty artichokes and heavy glasses of wine. But still, it's the cusp of the weekend and it's May, and nothing could be better than that .
3 comments:
Ha! This is so true! "damn you Lost, if you don’t deliver this time, I’m going to…complain even more and still watch you in the fall"
A two hour finale though! The weather in the midwest is also causing wardrobe woes, dressing too cool or too hot. Just another frustration!
Great blog. (Also I remember Salute Your Shorts!)
Pretty K,
You don't have to do EVERYTHING you still want to do in the next year. Everything's a freaking process. Plus, this mercurial place will always be here, you will ALWAYS be a good writer, and, slightly less important, I suppose, I will always be your friend and fan.
xoxox SB
PS - just took a long lunch to buy a ridiculous fuschia satin shirt. I think it's just fiesta enough.
You perfectly encapsulated my feelings about that blasted Lost and her siren song. No matter how disappointed or frustrated that show makes me, I'll always tune in, dang it.
Hope you had a beautimus May weekend, and you find something in it to post about!
Post a Comment